Marie Harte - Fallon's Flame

They passed several condominiums, as well as new beach houses being reconstructed in the aftermath of the last tropical storm to hit the area. Turning away from Cape Carteret, they continued along Route 58 inland, away from the ocean toward the Croatan National Forest. A perfect place to hide creatures that were neither man nor beast, but something in between. Those

“unfortunate side effects” of the project, he thought with a brief burst of humor, wondering what the world would think if it knew the popular green cartoonish monster was in actuality a military brainchild, not green, and fully capable of thinking for itself.

He glanced at his friends in the front seat. Make that, capable of thinking for themselves.

Hayashi continued to drive through a small spatter of raindrops. At least the constant swipe of windshield wipers lulled Fallon's temper, if not his headache. He couldn't wait to get back and relax in the one place he felt truly at home.

The large mansion they occupied served its purpose well enough. Near enough to the Marine Corps base at Camp Lejeune and the air station at Cherry Point, he and his team could use air, ground, or water for transport.

Hayashi pulled up to a gate, inched the truck to a halt, and punched in a few numbers on the dash. Once the gates opened, he drove up the winding drive. The large estate housed a ten-thousand-square-foot home, big enough to contain four Circs with varying temperaments and give each of them the privacy their secret organization demanded.

The truck pulled to a stop outside the front door. The small droplets of rain turned into a larger, faster deluge.

“Need me to carry you in, princess?” Tersch offered.

Fallon ignored him and sucked up the pain as he exited the truck. He stopped so suddenly, Hayashi crashed into him.

“What—”

He held out a hand and concentrated past the agony in his brain and the cold rain leeching away his warmth. “Admiral London's inside with Jules,” he said, hearing the admiral's thoughts as he spoke with their team leader. “And someone else.” Someone who made him hurt far worse than any bruising Tersch had given him that evening.

He sagged and would have fallen had Hayashi and Tersch not grabbed his arms. He heard Hayashi snap his fingers in front of his face.

“Hell. Let's get him inside.”

Fallon had a hard time seeing past the burst of color beneath his eyelids. Sounds and images bombarded his tired mind like pricks of lightning—all piercing and unavoidable.

Then a soothing voice filtered through—feminine, powerful, alien. He didn't like the invasion and fought to rid himself of it.

“Dude, move faster,” Tersch grumbled.

“He'll be fine. Fallon, quit trying to make Tersch feel guilty for pounding you. You know how he gets.”

Fallon wanted to tell Hayashi he wasn't acting, but he couldn't form words, nor could he send a telepathic message without breaking the mental shield he strove to maintain. The female's strange thought patterns threatened to undo him.

“Fallon?” Jules's commanding voice reached him through a fog as someone lowered him onto a couch.

“Here, let me.” A soft hand grazed his forehead, and the pain vanished as if it had never been. Fallon blinked up into eyes he wouldn't soon forget. Dark, unfathomably deep, and set inside a mature, feminine face full of mystery and strength.

The woman had dark brown skin as smooth as a baby's. Her age seemed indeterminate, anywhere from forty to sixty; he couldn't tell. Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes, but other than that, she seemed like an ebony statue of calm. Short, dark hair frosted with gray framed her face with regal care.

A strand of delicate pearls surrounded her neck, and a single pearl graced each earlobe.

She wore a navy blue suit, her skirt showing off trim legs and slender ankles. When she straightened, he noted she wore no-nonsense pumps that matched her dress. They put her at a petite five feet four, if that.

“Better now?” she asked, her voice soft yet firm, resonating with an energy he couldn't identify but wanted to understand.

“Yeah,” he rasped and tried to stand.

Tersch yanked him to his feet. “Hell, Fallon. Next time you want a lady's attention, just ask for it.” “ You sure you're okay ?”

“ I'm good, thanks .” Fallon cleared his throat, embarrassed to be the focus of so much attention. “Sorry. I think I had too much to drink.”

Hayashi and Tersch said nothing. Jules frowned. Jules could always tell when he was lying. He never drank to excess. Still, Jules didn't say anything aloud. “ Careful. She's strong.

And way weird .”

Admiral London cleared his throat. “I'm sorry to have come at such an odd hour, but operationally it's been a busy month. I've come to impart some important information. Jules, perhaps the conference room would be best for this.”

Jules nodded. Their leader, Julian Hawkins, had patience, ability, and a keen perception of others. His obvious leadership had garnered him the attention of Captain William Delancey, Admiral London's old protégé. Invited to participate in Project Dawn, Jules had followed his captain's recommendation and allowed himself to be the first one infected with the Circe serum.

The U.S. Navy's first Circ, but definitely not its last.

Jules led Admiral London and the woman to their secure conference room. Fallon and the others followed. Jules punched in the code on the door keypad, and the group entered and sat, waiting on the admiral.

“There's no easy way to put this.”

Fallon noticed Jules's frown. He must have seen something in the admiral's aura that bothered him. For Fallon's part, he couldn't hear a whisper of the man's thoughts.

His gaze met the woman's. She raised a brow, as if questioning his attention. Fallon sent Jules an apology. “ I can't read him at all. I think she's blocking me .”

“Admiral, please, just say whatever it is you need to say,” Jules said quietly.

“I can't handle your assignments and my new duties at the Pentagon any longer. While it's been a true joy to be so close to the thick of things again, I have to get back to the bigger picture.” The admiral drew in a deep breath. “To that end, I've chosen Mrs. Alicia Sharpe to replace me.”

As one, all four Circs turned their attention to the unassuming older woman studying them with placid interest.

“I've known Alicia for over thirty years. She's a problem solver for our government. She's not NSA, CIA, nor does she belong to any other agency. She's not a scientist either. Alicia is here to manage the group. She'll be handpicking your assignments from now on, as well as a new staff to better suit Circ needs.” The admiral made eye contact with every one of them, his green-eyed gaze serious. “I trust her with my life and with yours. She won't let you down. I don't expect any of you to let her down either.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral,” Jules answered without a qualm. Jules trusted the admiral implicitly.

Fallon wished he could be so lucky.

Fallon felt uneasy, especially when the admiral favored Mrs. Sharpe with a warm smile. A sudden image of the woman, years younger and wearing nothing but a string of pearls as she bent over Geoffrey London, hit him hard.

He choked on his shock and shielded himself from seeing anything more. He was astonished to have seen anything at all.

“Fallon?” Hayashi murmured.

“Sorry, dry throat.” God, his eyes were going to burn out. Seeing the admiral naked and aroused wasn't his idea of a good time. But he had to admit, Mrs. Sharpe had been a definite stunner in her younger years.

She gave him a small smile before composing herself, and her lack of embarrassment tempered his discomfort.